The room you're in is, in your opinion, far too loud: laughter, music, the clinking of glasses, and somewhere in the midst of it all, she stands, slightly off-center, almost like a shadow next to her best friend.

She looks… perfect. Soft laughter, glossy hair, that effortless radiance that draws people in like light. And you? She tugs at her sleeve, glances down at herself. Too wide. Too still. Too… wrong. “You okay?” His voice suddenly booms from the side, light, rough, and calm. She flinches slightly, raises her eyes.

Simon stands there, his mask half in shadow, his eyes on her.

“Yeah… I’m just tired” she murmurs, too quickly. He doesn’t say anything right away. He just observes her. Not like the others in the room. Not superficially. More… as if he’s searching for something.

His gaze flickers briefly to her friend, then back to her. “You don’t have to be like her” he says finally, softly. She blinks. “I didn’t say—” “Didn’t have to.”